When Life Feels Like a Jackson Pollock: Finding God in the Chaos

A Reflection on Pastor Chandra Lucas’ Message at Stonecreek

By Pastor Ricky Spindle

Every once in a while, a message comes through that feels less like a sermon and more like a sacred interruption—God pulling up a chair, leaning in, and saying, “Listen closely. This is for you.”

That’s what happened when Pastor Chandra Lucas brought the word, “All Things. All Good. All God.” And if you were in the room, or watching online, you know exactly what I mean. Romans 8:28 didn’t just sit on the screen that morning—it stood up, walked around, and breathed on us.

“And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to his purpose.” — Romans 8:28

Chandra took us into that first phrase of Romans 8:28—“And we know.” The Greek word oidamen isn’t about guessing, hoping, or crossing your fingers. It’s experiential knowing. Settled knowing. Gravity-level knowing. The kind of knowing you don’t explain—you just live.

She compared it to the way water surrounds a fish. Always present. Always sustaining. Often unnoticed until suddenly, you’re aware of just how dependent you are on it.

That is God’s sovereignty. It’s the atmosphere we breathe—whether we remember it or not.

Then came the part we love when life is good and hate when life is hard:

“…that all things work together…”

The word all—panta—means nothing is left out. Not the wins. Not the wounds. Not the boring Tuesdays. Not the moments we hope no one ever brings up again.

She described it like a giant jigsaw puzzle. We’re the ones staring at scattered pieces. God is the One holding the box top. He sees what we can’t: the picture that’s forming.

And the phrase work together—sunergeō—is where we get the word synergy. The idea isn’t that things magically align; it's that God is actively causing them to conspire for His purpose. Even the pieces we’d rather throw away.

Life may feel random to us. But in God’s hands? It is coordinated. Integrated. Redeemed.

Chandra didn’t preach theory. She preached from scars. She opened her heart and talked about a miscarriage, the tragic death of a student, her husband’s cancer diagnosis. None of these were “good.” But all of them became places where she learned to know God instead of merely knowing about Him.

Suffering does that. It pushes us past religious information and into relational intimacy. She reminded us of Job—the man who lost everything yet held onto one truth: God is still good even when life isn’t.

Then came one of her most memorable illustrations: Jackson Pollock’s art. When Pollock first splattered paint on canvas, people called it nonsense. Chaotic. Worthless. But with time, perspective, and revelation, what once looked meaningless became priceless.

Our lives often feel the same—like random splashes of pain, joy, failure, growth, and mystery. But the divine Artist is creating something larger, more beautiful, more intentional than we can imagine. We’re not looking at a mess. We’re looking at a masterpiece in the making.

Romans 8:28 only makes sense when you keep reading. “…to those who love God, to those called according to His purpose.”

What is that purpose? Romans 8:29 answers it plainly: to be conformed to the image of His Son. God’s good isn’t just comfort—it's Christlikeness. Chandra walked us through the stunning three-part journey of every believer:

• Justification — a moment

• Sanctification — a lifetime

• Glorification — eternity

And then she said something that’ll stay with me for a long time: “Sanctification is often disguised as suffering.” In other words: When we cry, “God, make me like Jesus,” He hears us… and He answers.

Chandra closed with this truth:

Nothing touches your life without God’s permission, and nothing that touches your life will be wasted.

Even if it never gets “good” this side of heaven, it will be worked for good.

The promise doesn’t hinge on the season—it hinges on the Savior.

At the end, she read a poem titled “Hope.” She wrote it before her suffering began—but when she read it, it felt like God had planted the poem in her past to carry her through her future. It’s raw.

It’s artistic.

It’s prophetic.

And it breathes with the heartbeat of Romans 8:28:

God has plans for you.

Plans that hold when you can’t.

Plans that breathe when you can’t.

Plans that carry when you can’t.

Plans that anchor you in hope.

Here’s what I walked away thinking:

The story you’re living is not the story you will end with.

The chapter you’re in is not the final chapter God is writing.

Your suffering is not wasted.

Your detours are not useless.

Your disappointments are not disqualifiers.

All things.

All good.

All God.

That’s not a slogan—that’s a promise.

Let’s keep loving Him.

Let’s keep trusting Him.

Let’s keep becoming more like Jesus.

And let’s keep walking forward with what Pastor Chandra reminded us of so powerfully: Hope always has the last word.